


Dream to Life

by Celandine



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Community: hp_springsmut, Dirty Talk, Drama, First Time, Frottage, M/M, Masturbation, Romance, Smut, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-06
Updated: 2007-04-06
Packaged: 2017-10-12 08:36:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/122984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celandine/pseuds/Celandine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oliver listens, Oliver watches, and eventually Oliver gets what he's imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dream to Life

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nqdonne](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=nqdonne).



At Hogwarts, how to put a Silencing Charm on your bed at night was one of the first things that first-year boys learned, taught by the older boys. Oliver supposed that first-year girls learned it too, but of course he didn't know for certain. First years used it mostly when they were homesick and didn't want anyone to know. Most of them weren't very good at it. You could usually tell if one of your dorm mates was having a cry behind his bed curtains, but no one ever said anything.

Over time they all became more proficient and realized that _Silencio_ could be used for purposes beyond hiding homesickness. No one much wanted to have his friends know when he was having a satisfying wank late at night, even though he knew that everyone else was probably doing the same thing. By third or fourth year each boy put a Silencing Charm on his bed most nights. It had the extra benefit, too, of making it easier to sleep; no more snoring from Simon Capper, for instance.

Sometimes – not often, but sometimes – someone forgot to put the spell up, though, and then Oliver could hear him tossing off. He liked those nights. At first he felt strange about listening, but he reasoned that since no one could tell, and it didn't hurt anyone, it didn't really matter – and imagining what his friends were doing made him instantly hard. Someone forgot his _Silencio_ often enough that Oliver eventually learned to distinguish between everyone's sounds.

Simon was quiet even without the Silencing Charm. He was quick, too. A few rustles of cloth and then a strangled grunt when he came, then nothing until he fell asleep and snored.

Crispin Smethwyk was the loudest. Oliver figured out after a while that he must be humping against his mattress or the pillow or something because the bedstead creaked quite a bit when he was at it. Surprising, really, that Crispin didn't notice, but perhaps he was simply too distracted. Oliver certainly wasn't going to tell him.

Hamish MacMillan seemed to use a lot of lubricant, because there was always a kind of wet sloppy sound from his bed. It was hearing Hamish that had given Oliver the idea of going into a Muggle shop and buying some lube of his own. The embarrassment he'd felt had been more than worth it.

The one of his dorm mates that Oliver had never heard wanking was Percy Weasley. Not surprising, that. Percy was – _careful_ was the first word that came to Oliver's mind when he thought of Percy. He always had his homework done and then some. If McGonagall had assigned a two-foot essay, Percy would be the one to give her two feet six inches. His cauldrons never exploded during Potions the way that Crispin's did. While Oliver had never had that particular trouble, he was likely to have a potion end up navy blue when it should have been turquoise. Percy, however, seemed to understand not only the details of the instructions but the theories behind them, and although it wasn't good form to boast, no one could have missed that Percy had received nine Os and three Es on his O.W.L.s last spring, the best any Hogwarts student had done in thirty years.

Oliver had actually borrowed Percy's methodical approach in one area: Quidditch. When he had been unexpectedly chosen captain of the Gryffindor team in his fourth year, he had thrown himself into it with wholehearted enthusiasm, doing extensive research on new moves to try and working out elaborate charts to show the rest of the team what he meant them to do.

This evening, though, the unthinkable had happened. For some reason Percy had failed to put up his usual Silencing Charm. Oliver had seen him in the library earlier, studying with Penelope Clearwater from Ravenclaw. Everyone knew that the two of them were going out and perhaps they had done a little snogging when they patrolled the corridors together that evening, making Percy rather hastier and more desperate than usual. Oliver listened carefully to the sounds that Percy made. It was exciting to hear someone new for a change; he always enjoyed listening to any of them, imagining what they were doing to themselves, stroking his own prick all the while, but to hear Percy – well, that was exceptional.

Percy made breathy little moans and Oliver supposed that Percy had his hand wrapped around his prick and was moving it up and down over the shaft, the pale freckled skin darkened with blood to near purple. He had a nice prick, although Oliver had seen it only in the showers, never hard. He just imagined he knew what it might look like, surrounded by ginger curls of hair. Oliver heard the bed creak a little, not as much as Crispin's did, and then heard Percy murmuring.

"Oh yes, more."

 _More?_ Oliver thought. _More what?_ He listened harder.

"Come on, put it in me, give it to me, deeper, yeah."

Oliver's jaw dropped open in astonishment. Perfect Prefect Percy, sticking his own finger up his arse? That seemed to be the only possible explanation. Oliver grabbed the half-empty bottle of lube from under his pillow, squeezed some out, and reached behind himself to tease open his own hole. If Percy liked that too, then maybe...? He suddenly had a vivid mental image of Percy underneath him and tightened his grip around his cock, stroking it faster as he listened to Percy's muffled groans.

Percy seemed to come quite quickly, with a gasp, and then was silent. Oliver pumped himself harder, imagining the look of satiation on Percy's face, wondering what Percy would taste like. After he had come he licked the spunk from his own fingers, thinking about it.

The next morning Oliver watched Percy from out of the corner of his eye, at breakfast, but Percy seemed unaware that he had forgotten his _Silencio_ the night before and was just as uptight and bossy as ever, fussing over his little sister. Ginny was upset about the attack on her fellow first-year Colin, and Percy yelled at Fred and George for the method they were using to try to cheer her up.

Oliver was able to use memories of that night as good wanking fantasy material for a couple of months, and if he wondered if Percy might not be entirely straight, despite his apparent attachment to Penelope, he certainly wasn't going to come out and ask without any further indications.

It was not until after the Ravenclaw-Slytherin match in January that Oliver got an inkling. With excited discussion of the way that Ravenclaw's Beaters managed the Bludgers still going on in the common room, Oliver slipped upstairs to change his robes. One of the second-year girls had spilled pumpkin juice down his back, and it was cold and sticky. He wanted to get straight back, so he just dropped the robes on the floor in the middle of the room, knowing that even if the house-elves didn't pick them up immediately it was unlikely that anyone else would be bothered before he came upstairs again to go to bed. Just as he was turning to go out the door again, Percy's voice stopped him.

"Do you _mind_?"

Oliver whipped around. Percy was propped up on his elbows on his bed, glaring at Oliver, who couldn't think how he hadn't noticed that Percy hadn't been downstairs trying to keep a lid on the noisiness.

"Mind?"

"Yes," Percy said. "I don't especially care to have your robes cluttering up the floor of the room, you know. It isn't as if it would be difficult to take them as far as the laundry basket."

Oliver, still flooded with adrenaline from the excitement of watching such a closely-fought match, folded his arms and glared back at Percy. "Come and make me do it, then." Percy was tall, but gangly, whereas Oliver had a burlier build, and he was quite sure that Percy would not use any hexes against him – Percy's wand was plainly visible sitting on his trunk, across the room.

"Come and make me," he repeated, flexing his hands and balling them loosely into fists.

Percy's face darkened. "Are you trying to get me to fight, Wood?"

Oliver pretended to consider the matter. "Why yes, I am," he said in mock surprise. "What's the matter, Weasley, are you afraid?"

Percy bit his lip, his face flushing even redder as he sprang out of the bed. "No, I'm not afraid," he said through gritted teeth. "But I'm a prefect. I _keep_ the rules, I don't _break_ them."

"Oh, yeah? Like you've never spent time down some of those unused corridors snogging Penelope Clearwater? Never done a little co-ed bathing in the Prefects' bathroom?" Oliver laced his tone with all the sarcasm and doubt he could manage. He expected Percy to retort again, at least to object to Oliver having brought Penelope into the discussion; he didn't expect the whirlwind of swinging fists that followed his taunts.

Oliver was in rather better physical condition and managed to avoid or block most of Percy's blows, closing with him and grappling the wiry body directly instead. They shoved at each other, stumbling around the room until Percy stepped on the edge of Oliver's robes and slipped. He pulled Oliver down on top of him as he landed hard on his arse. Oliver's hips were on top of Percy's; much to his surprise he realized that Percy's cock was hard under his robes, and that his own was as well from the physical contact. He could smell Percy, dusty parchment and ink but most of all the tang of Percy's sweat, and it sent the blood rushing even faster to his prick.

Percy looked embarrassed and angry, and Oliver scrambled away hastily, asking, "Are you all right? I didn't mean..."

Shaking his head, Percy cut Oliver off . "Just put your things away and go."

Oliver opened his mouth. He wanted to ask if Percy perhaps fancied him, to let Percy know that the feeling was mutual, but Percy repeated vehemently, "Just _go!_ " So Oliver nodded and picked up the robes, taking them over to the basket, trying not to look at Percy still sitting there on the floor.

He stopped for a moment in the boys' bathroom to make sure that the fight didn't show on his face. As he examined a bruise on his jaw, he realized that anyone who saw it would assume it had been made by a Bludger at Quidditch practice, so it didn't really matter anyway. He went back downstairs to the common room, where Fred and George were busy explaining to Angelina what they thought the weaknesses of the Slytherin Chasers were. Oliver joined them and was soon deep in conversation, but a small part of his mind kept thinking of Percy upstairs. What had he been doing?

Half an hour later Percy came down and started telling everyone to calm down, it wasn't as if it had been a Gryffindor win today, he'd have to report them if they wouldn't be quiet. He didn't say anything to Oliver, though. He wouldn't even meet Oliver's eyes.

For the next couple of months Oliver watched Percy more than he ever had, until he could probably have drawn from memory the way that ten freckles made a perfect star on the left side of Percy's neck, or identified the exact shade of the red mark that Percy's glasses left on the bridge of his nose on the rare occasions he took them off. He noticed that Percy and Penelope seemed to be on not quite as good of terms as they had been. They didn't break up, as far as Oliver could tell, but they didn't spend every spare moment with each other either. Percy still wouldn't look at Oliver, and he never forgot to put a Silencing Charm on his bed at night.

Oliver wanked to thoughts of Percy anyway, remembering how it had been to listen to Percy tossing off that once, and what Percy's body had felt like under his hands as Oliver lay on top of him.

He tried not to think about Percy so much the rest of the time, working on new Quidditch moves, studying anything he could think of to distract himself. He even arranged to study Ancient Runes with Pamela Dearborn from Hufflepuff and kissed her a couple of times one weekend at Hogsmeade just to see what it would be like, but he wasn't really interested and was more relieved than otherwise when she suggested that they ask Roger Davies and Janet Dorny from Ravenclaw to study with them as well.

April passed, a wet April and cold, with soggy dirty snow lingering in all the shady places on the grounds, and vast stretches of mud in between. The last week of April, Oliver was down in the library on Wednesday evening, studying, alone for once. He'd chosen a tiny table over near the Restricted Section where no one else liked to sit, and was looking up the properties of Acromantula hairs for a Potions essay when a shadow fell across his parchment. He looked up to see that Percy had slipped into the chair opposite.

"Hello," said Oliver. He cocked his head slightly. "Did you want something?"

Percy flushed bright pink, the color clashing terribly with his copper freckles and ginger hair, and nodded.

"Well, what did you want?" asked Oliver after a moment.

Swallowing visibly, Percy muttered something that Oliver couldn't hear.

"What?"

"You," Percy repeated, still low, and finally met Oliver's eyes, for the first time since January. He looked terrified, humiliated, but determined.

"Oh." Oliver closed the book he'd been reading and started to roll up his essay. "Oh."

"I..." Percy hesitated. "Is there... do you... I mean, do you want me too?"

Oliver finished putting his things away into his satchel and leaned across the table, brushing his fingers lightly over Percy's white-clenched knuckles. "Yeah."

Percy sighed, a puff of breath. "Tonight?"

Oliver nodded, a tingle of warmth running through him at the thought of kissing Percy, holding him, seeing his face flushed with pleasure. Their room obviously was impossible, not with the other three boys either there or likely to come in at any moment. "Did you have some place in mind?" He'd heard rumors about the Prefects' bathroom, of course, and he hoped that that wasn't what Percy was thinking of. Any of the other Prefects might come in, from what Oliver understood.

With a tiny nod, Percy said, "I'm not on Prefect duty tonight, and it's only just after nine o'clock. There's time." He stood up.

Oliver rose, swinging his satchel over his shoulder, and followed Percy out of the library, past other tables full of students working away. Percy led him up to the seventh floor, but turned away from the entrance to the Gryffindor common room and instead went past Filch's office and into a corridor with a tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy hanging on the wall.

"Stay there," Percy told him, and began to pace up and down, looking at the blank stone of the opposite wall. Oliver watched in bemusement.

"What..." he started to ask, when suddenly on Percy's third pass a door appeared.

"Come on." Percy had taken hold of the doorknob.

Oliver hurried over, half-expecting the door to vanish again if he didn't reach it quickly. Percy stepped inside and Oliver followed him, gazing around with great curiosity.

It was a comfortable-looking room with a fireplace that had a fire already burning in it, and a sofa in front that looked very much like one of the sofas in the Gryffindor common room, except that it was considerably larger. Oliver looked at it, dry-mouthed. It looked nearly as large as a bed, in fact.

"What _is_ this place?" he asked.

Percy shrugged. "It's called the Room of Requirement. I heard my brother Bill talk about it once, when he didn't know I was listening. I don't think very many people know that it's here; I've never tried to find it before tonight myself. You walk past where it should be several times, thinking of what you need, and the room will open up and give it to you."

Oliver whistled, long and low. "Nice."

"I thought so." Percy had paused, looking around the room just as Oliver had done, but now he moved over towards the sofa and sat, turning his face toward Oliver.

"Have you ever..." His voice trailed off and he hunched his shoulders. "You know."

"With another bloke?" Oliver shook his head. "No."

"Neither have I," said Percy. Oliver saw the Adam's apple bob in his throat as he swallowed, taking off his horn-rimmed glasses and setting them down carefully to one side. "Come here."

Oliver moved over and sat down next to Percy. Tentatively he put his hand on Percy's knee and a little thrill went through him at the realization that he was actually touching Percy, that Percy wanted him to.

Percy leaned toward Oliver and their lips brushed. Oliver reached out and pulled Percy closer, turning him so that they faced each other more squarely, and kissed him again. Percy's lips were firmer than Pamela's or those of any of the other girls Oliver had tried kissing. Oh, it was definitely blokes he fancied, this bloke in particular. He could feel just a hint of stubble on Percy's jaw when he reached up to touch the skin of his face. Percy was a very good kisser, Oliver decided after a minute or two, as Percy's tongue slipped into his mouth and sent shivers through him. He heard himself make a noise in the back of his throat, almost a whimper, trying to get more, but Percy pulled back to look at him. His eyes were very blue and a little dazed.

"Is that..." he asked in a husky voice. "Is that all right for you, Oliver?"

"Better than all right," said Oliver, and started to kiss him again, this time more boldly, sucking on Percy's lip and then licking his way over to Percy's ear.

Percy shuddered when Oliver bit gently on his earlobe. "Oh yeah," he whispered, and Oliver felt a hot rush of excitement.

He licked again at Percy's neck, tasting the salty flavor of his skin. Oliver's prick was hard, pressing uncomfortably against the elastic of his pants, and he reached to adjust it, fumbling with one hand.

"No, let me," said Percy, and undid Oliver's robe, reaching in to unzip his trousers. As Percy's long fingers closed around him, Oliver groaned. He'd never had anyone else touch him there before, and it felt so much better than when he wanked himself that he thought he might come before Percy did anything more.

"Oh, Merlin," he gasped when Percy's thumb brushed across the tip of his prick, rubbing the moisture that had oozed out across the tender flesh. "Percy... please..."

Percy's lips captured his own again as Percy began to stroke up and down, not quite as firmly as Oliver did when wanking but faster, and Oliver's hips jerked. His cock felt harder than ever before in his life, hot and heavy, and he shot into Percy's hand, feeling excited and relieved and embarrassed all at once. He hadn't even really touched Percy yet, and here he'd made a mess all over both of their robes. Percy was breathing hard too. He pulled Oliver's hand to touch his prick through his robes.

Oliver rubbed him that way for a moment, watching as Percy's head tipped back and his eyes closed. Then he stopped and said, "I want to see you."

Percy's eyes flew open again. "You do?"

"Yes." Oliver nodded emphatically. "All of you."

"All... all right." Percy looked surprised, as if he couldn't believe that Oliver, that anyone would want to see him naked, but he stood up and began to remove his clothes.

He was gorgeous, Oliver thought. Of course he'd seen Percy undressed before, but not like this, not where he could really look without worrying that someone else would see, or that Percy would see and be offended. Percy seemed to enjoy being looked at, even, standing in a pose that was almost defiant, his feet slightly apart and his scarlet prick jutting up proudly from its nest of curls, just as Oliver had imagined it.

Oliver scooted to the edge of the sofa and put his arms around Percy's hips before realizing that he was still tangled up in all his own clothes. He hastily stood up to take them off, wiping off the last sticky blobs of come from himself as he did so.

When they were both naked, they lay down again, Percy on top with his cock prodding into Oliver's thigh. Oliver reached to stroke him, but Percy shook his head, saying, "Just like this," rubbing himself against the juncture of Oliver's thigh and stomach, and Oliver didn't argue although he would have liked to touch Percy more.

Instead he contented himself with grabbing onto Percy's arse, pulling their bodies more tightly together and kissing Percy fiercely. He felt a little better when Percy came almost as quickly as he himself had, his breath hot on Oliver's face as he whimpered and shook and spurted warm wetness across Oliver's stomach.

After he had come Percy relaxed, going almost limp against Oliver. Heavy perhaps, but for now Oliver didn't mind. It felt surprisingly comfortable, surprisingly right, the two of them together like this, and Percy seemed to feel so too. His arms crept around Oliver's waist and he leaned his head against Oliver's shoulder. Oliver stroked back sweat-damp strands of ginger hair. They weren't quite long enough to get into Percy's eyes but he brushed them back nonetheless before letting his hand fall into a loose embrace around Percy's shoulders. They lay there like that, their heartbeats slowing, for how long Oliver didn't know, didn't care. Eventually he felt Percy's body losing that suppleness, returning to his habitual tension.

"We should go," Percy said, pushing himself up on his hands, away from Oliver, refusing to quite meet Oliver's eyes. "It must be nearly ten o'clock."

"Not yet." Oliver didn't want to sound pleading. He wasn't sure if he had succeeded, but at least Percy met his eyes. "Don't you want to stay, just a little while longer?"

"Yes," said Percy with a catch in his voice, and Oliver wondered what he was thinking. He hoped that Percy didn't intend for this to be a one-time encounter, but he was afraid to ask.

"Then stay. Another half-hour, that's all." Oliver ran his hand along Percy's back, cupping the rounded fullness of his arse, and felt Percy's prick start to harden against him again. He remembered the one time he had heard Percy wanking himself, and how he had wondered what Percy would taste like.

Awkwardly he struggled to sit up, pushing Percy back to lean against the sofa and kissing him. He rested his hand on Percy's thigh as he began to kiss and lick and suck his way down Percy's neck, pausing at the hollow of his throat. He wanted to leave a mark there, but didn't dare. Someone might see it and ask inconvenient questions. Instead he kept moving downward and felt Percy's hand in his hair, gently tugging. Oliver looked up.

"Are you sure?" Percy whispered, and Oliver nodded firmly before bending down once more.

He tasted the half-dried splashes of spunk on Percy's stomach. They were bitter, salty, and reminded Oliver somehow of the potions that Professor Snape made them brew in class. He could feel the radiating heat of Percy's cock, warming his face before his lips ever touched it.

It was surprisingly soft. He licked at the foreskin and it peeled back, exposing the spongier flesh beneath. The bitter flavor was stronger here, overlaid with a musky scent as Oliver closed his lips around the head and sucked. Percy's hand in his hair tightened, not trying to draw him away or force him further down either one, just letting him know Percy was there.

When Oliver let his tongue run along the vein that stood out in relief on the underside, Percy moaned Oliver's name. He had no real idea of what he was doing; as he'd told Percy, he had never done this before, although he'd imagined it plenty of times, with Percy himself and with a few other blokes over the years as well. But all of Oliver's imaginings were nothing like this heated and pulsing reality.

He tried to see how much of Percy's cock he could take in at once. It was less than he had hoped, perhaps halfway or just a little more before the head bumped into the back of his throat. He nearly gagged, and had to back off. Instead he licked the palm of his right hand and used that to stroke the base of Percy's prick as he sucked as far down as he could manage.

Percy moaned louder. "Oh, Oliver, yes."

Then, just when Oliver had gotten into a kind of a rhythm, Percy said in an urgent voice, "I'm going to come – Oliver, now!" and tried to pull Oliver's head away.

Oliver held on, not letting himself be moved, and sucked even harder so that Percy would realize that he wanted this, wanted to have the evidence of Percy's desire flood across his tongue. Percy gasped one great heaving breath and came, the thick bitter slimy fluid pulsing into the back of Oliver's throat so that he nearly choked. He raised his head a little to swallow it, then dipped back down to lick up the last drops. Percy's fingers were stroking his head and shoulders with soft flickering touches, until Oliver pulled away at last and sat up, wiping the back of his hand across his face where it was smeared with his own saliva.

"I can't believe you..." Percy shook his head. "I mean, do you want...? I want..." His face was red. "I want to do that to you, too."

Oliver's heart gave a leap more than matched by his prick. He didn't trust himself to speak, so he just nodded. Percy smiled back, his nervousness apparent, his resolve equally so.

"Sit here," he told Oliver, and Oliver shifted and scrambled around so that he was half-sitting, half-lying, propped up in the corner of the sofa.

Percy knelt over him, his eyes sweeping across Oliver's body intently, then touching him, moving over the sparse dark hairs on his chest and down to the thicker patch at his groin where his prick stood rigidly at attention. Percy rubbed his cheek along it, looking up at Oliver, blue eyes bright.

The roughness of Percy's face was slightly painful on the sensitive skin, but oddly exciting as well. There was no question that this was _Percy_ , another bloke, not the softness that a girl would have, and Oliver liked that thought very much indeed. He was unprepared, however, for how it would feel when Percy's mouth closed around him, hotter and wetter and more intense than anything he'd ever felt or imagined, even more than Percy's hand earlier. That hand now was stroking over his balls and Oliver let out a squeak, much to his own embarrassment, when Percy reached one finger behind to touch Oliver's arsehole. Percy moved it away when Oliver made the sound, and Oliver had to say, "No, please – it feels good."

He thought Percy smiled around his cock but it was hard to tell. The finger returned, just brushing lightly, hardly pressing in at all. Oliver pushed down a bit against it and felt a surge of arousal as the tip of Percy's finger slipped inside him. Percy had managed to take in most of Oliver's prick and Oliver resolved to ask him, sometime, what his secret was to do that without gagging. He touched Percy's face, stroking along the edge of Percy's temple with his thumb, unable to control the needy whimpers that spilled from his throat.

Since Percy had warned Oliver when he was about to come, Oliver supposed he ought to show the same courtesy, in case Percy would rather not have Oliver come in his mouth. In a low voice, he managed to say, "I think I'm going to – I think – Percy!"

Percy pulled back just as Oliver began to come, and Oliver saw the pearly white strands splash across Percy's face, over his lips and cheek. Percy withdrew his finger from Oliver's arse and sat up, his tongue reaching out to taste what Oliver had spilled on his skin. He cocked his head as if he were thinking about the flavor, but didn't try to lick up any more, instead using his hand to wipe it away.

" _Now_ we can leave," said Oliver with a grin.

Percy looked shocked for an instant, then laughed out loud, something Oliver had heard him do only a few times in all their six years at Hogwarts. "You poncy git."

"Takes one to know one," said Oliver. He looked a little doubtfully at their messy selves and stained and crumpled robes piled on the floor. "Are you any good at..." he started to ask, but Percy was already rummaging for his wand.

" _Tergeo!_ " Percy pointed a second time at the robes. " _Scourgify!_ "

They pulled on their clothes hastily, a little embarrassed now. Percy stooped down to find his glasses on the floor, and wiped them off. Oliver almost regretted seeing them go on again, hiding those blue eyes that had seen through to what they both wanted.

Oliver was the first to the door, which he held open with a flourish. "I'll come after you."

Percy gave him a tight conspiratorial grin. "Next time." He didn't say when, or where, and Oliver still was uncertain as to where matters stood between Percy and Penelope, but there was going to be a next time, and that was enough for the moment.  


**Author's Note:**

> Written for hp_springsmut for nqdonne, who had many great possibilities in her request... so here there is voyeurism, hand jobs, frottage, a wee bit of angry banter and dirty talk, and a first time encounter, all wrapped up as missing canon from CoS.


End file.
